I come from a sunburnt country.
I come from Scottish and Welsh,
and Protestant guilt.
I come from stolen land.
I come from privilege
from classical music
and cryptic crosswords
and private education.
I come from discontent
from chucking in school
from teenage rebellion.

I came in desperation,
I came a stranger
in a strange state of mind.
I came to Thatcher’s 
disunited kingdom
to Red Ken’s London.

I found welcome anonymity
my year zero
the chance to write a new,
a better version of myself.

A slow flourishing
found me rooted,
learning the vocabulary
of community,
how it holds me.

Stranger, welcome,
let me show you around.